


the last honeysuckle of summer

by volatilehearted (anomalagous)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 12:00:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16017467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anomalagous/pseuds/volatilehearted
Summary: a drabble that ran a little bit away from me for my dear @quicklikelight. the first day of college at uc davis for ya boys.





	the last honeysuckle of summer

It was the kind of thing that Stiles had never thought he’d see.

Admittedly, there had been a surprising amount of those lately: reality after the Wild Hunt had erased him from it, prom, graduation, the freedom to flee up and down the coast with Scott and the Jeep and the false conceit that they were never going back to the town that had taken far more from them than it had ever given.

They  _ had  _ gone back, at least physically. In a much different way, maybe they never really had.

Because now, they were here, in another impossible moment that they'd fought and bled and cried for.

Stiles leaned back in his desk chair, stretching both arms over his head with their fingers linked. There wasn't a lot of extra space in the dorm room. Almost as soon as the stretch started, he felt Scott reach back from his own chair and cap his hand over Stiles’. Stiles smiled, and pressed his knuckles briefly into Scott’s palm. “How you holdin’ up, Scotts?”

“I still feel kind of like I’m dreaming.” Scott patted at Stiles’ hands and then let his own drop. “But otherwise...I think I’m good. I think this is good.”

With a rough little cough of a laugh, Stiles brought his arms back down and wiggled his way to turning around in his chair. He was met with the image of Scott's face, upside-down, as he arced his neck over the back of his chair. Stiles had the sudden strange urge to kiss him, maybe on the tip of his nose, or that mole by his right eye.

He refrained, instead propping his chin up on the wood beneath it. “Yeah, weird, right? It's been so long we forgot what good feels like.”

Scott's smile grew lopsided. “I don't know about that. We had our moments.”

“ _ Maybe _ . Squeezed in between ten thousand times more moments of running for our lives or solving some kind of crisis.”

The expression Scott made reminded Stiles of that one time that Scott had accused  _ Stiles _ of being the one unable to tell a bestiary from bestality. He wondered if that meant Scott was about to say something equally wrong-headed. “Come on. It wasn’t  _ that _ bad.”

Not quite, but  _ almost _ . “...Scott. You have literally,  _ actually _ died not once, not twice, but  _ thrice _ . I was possessed by an ancient demon of  _ fuck you _ and did a lot of  _ fuck youing _ around the town, and also  _ to _ you specifically. I think we’ve fought more flavor-of-the-week bad guys with bad supernatural CG effects than gone to high school parties.  _ Buffy _ had a slow schedule compared to us. Yes. _ Yes _ , it was a hundred and twenty percent that bad.”

Scott just smiled, in a way that almost infuriating, and shrugged awkwardly. “Maybe it just didn’t seem so bad because I had you?”

“That is also a dirty lie, or at least  _ wrong _ , but I appreciate the sentiment, so I’ll let it slide.”

Scott grunted quietly and straightened up, only to spin around in his chair and mirror Stiles’ own position. He looked concerned, but not angry, the kind of expression someone made when you told them you were sick. It was  _ also _ almost infuriating. A lot of things about Scott were almost infuriating, mostly in how much Stiles  _ liked _ them.

“ _ Stiles _ .” His name came out of Scott’s mouth like a sigh, like a sound used to scold. “Why are you so determined to make sure I remember the worst side of you?”

It wasn’t an unreasonable question, but Stiles didn’t like it anyway. He couldn’t really articulate why, but it twisted like a bitter taste in his mouth. “I don’t know, because you seem so determined to  _ forget _ all of the shitty things I’ve done to you? That’s practically an invitation for me to do them all again!”

As ever, Scott seemed thoroughly unimpressed with Stiles’ extremes. “It really  _ isn’t _ . You know that by now. I  _ know _ you do. You’re just looking for an escape route ‘cause you don’t like being wrong and you  _ kind of _ don’t know how to handle that I still genuinely love you after everything we’ve been through.”

The use of  _ that particular word _ made Stiles hiccup, squeezing his eyes shut briefly. When he opened them again, Scott had moved closer, only inches from Stiles’ face, and whatever inane response Stiles had prepared stuttered and died on his tongue.

“Shut up for a second and listen.” Scott said, even though Stiles hadn’t said anything at all. “You’re so  _ dumb _ sometimes. I get that, but sometimes I also  _ forget _ it, because you’re so good at noticing things except when you just decide not to  _ look _ , and then you’re the most oblivious guy I know. So here’s the deal, plain and simple, you don’t even need a crime board for this. I’ve loved you since the sandbox, and I’m gonna love you until the pine box. Basically nothing you can do will change that. I’d thought maybe since we’re here, in a new place, starting a new part of our lives, it could be a new start for  _ us _ , too. No more thinking about who slapped who into a tunnel wall or who stabbed who with a giant sword or  _ anything _ . No more thinking about Theo or the Wild Hunt or what  _ almost happened _ or what we already fixed. Okay? What we’re gonna do is enjoy college like two regular people, and I’m gonna grow my hair out and finally actually learn to play guitar, and if I’m  _ really _ lucky, I’ll talk you into letting me kiss your face and touch your butt.”

There was so, so much in that. The sheer wave of words, complicated emotions,  _ shifting paradigms _ , felt like it would just knock Stiles into the sea and he’d never see dry land again. He had so many things to say, which made it  _ extra dumb _ that what came out of his  _ extra dumb _ mouth first was, “...wow.  _ Wow _ . Did you  _ rehearse _ that?”

Immediately, Scott started to look bashful, but not quite contrite. He didn’t move out of Stiles’ personal space. “...Yeah. A little bit. I kind of had a feeling this talk was coming. I just didn’t figure it would be on the first day.”

There was a wince that played over Scott’s features, and then he added, more rueful, “...and now I owe Lydia twenty bucks.”

_ That _ was a lot of information to process, too, so in his traditional fashion, Stiles just didn’t. Instead, he let his mouth run on autopilot, helpless to actually rein it in. “You know, I’ve  _ kind of _ been in love with  _ you _ since our larval stage, too.”

Scott’s expression immediately faded back into sympathy. He nodded, one lip pulled further into his mouth than the other, making that same  _ infuriating _ face that made Stiles want to kiss so many parts of it. “I know. I mean,  _ now _ , I didn’t always. First I had to wait for myself to figure it out. Then I was waiting for you to figure it out. But I got tired of waiting. I guess you’ve rubbed off on me a little, huh?”

Scott seemed so completely and endearingly oblivious to how that  _ sounded _ , but Stiles sure wasn’t. Like everything else that had happened in the last five minutes, he was no more able to stop his own reaction than he could have stopped the sun rising. Tilting his chair dangerously up on two legs, he tried to close the distance between them with a murmur, “...oh, I’ll  _ show you _ rubbing off on you, McCall.”

There was a flicker of Scott’s sunrise smile, and then they were  _ kissing _ .

It was a little chaste and a little unsteady, but  _ God _ , it tasted like the last honeysuckle of summer, and for once-- _ for once _ \--Stiles thought he might be starting to believe that this year would be a  _ good one _ .


End file.
